


Defeating Denial

by BenevolentIncubus



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blood, Broken Bones, Horror, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 22:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentIncubus/pseuds/BenevolentIncubus
Summary: As Ryuji lays in that dull hospital bed following the episodes of Kamoshida's violence, he struggles to accept the fact that things may very well never be the same for him.Currently a one shot possible turned longer depending on feedback!





	Defeating Denial

A pitiful scream ripped from Ryuji’s throat, a wave of pain shooting up hi spine like electricity as he hit the wooden gym floor. Something was wrong; very wrong. His knee slipped from underneath him and he felt a wet spot growing on his shorts. He tried to look up, but his vision blurred the more he tried to focus on the mumbling that he heard around him. He could hear that son of a bitch, but his vision continued to fail him as he felt bile build up in his throat. He felt heavier like something shoved into his side and he finally collapsed to his side, gaping for breath. “Shit- Ann…” He groaned, fighting for his breath through the pain; there was no way he- The pain was finally getting to him as he was engulfed by darkness. He could no longer force himself awake.

An hour? No, a few minutes? He could not tell as he felt himself getting lifted off the ground, voices all around him. But no one he could make out through the blurred vision he seemed to be retaining. There were sirens and he could tell how hot the air around him was; or was that himself overheating? He felt his leg shift and he let out another scream, nails sinking into the mattress of the gurney beneath him. He cared not if anyone saw him, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he felt the pain rake through his body again and again. In his hand, he clutched a folded pink paper, feeling the defeat overtake him as he remembered his goal for the day. Biting his lip, he tried not to lose it as he was ushered into the ambulance, but her nerves failing him. From his sweaty palm, the pink note fell to the school grounds. On the front fold in delicate writing the name ‘Ann’ was printed.

That was the day he had finally mustered the courage to her her out. He was working hard at track to impress her but his courage had finally outweighed his fear of rejection. But it was not fated to happen. Kamoshida’s words echoed through his mind as he slowly began to look around in search of the one person he cared about. Had she seen him? Heard him? “No one would love you.” The coach laughed; he had seen a peak of the letter just as Ryuji had pulled it from his pocket, moments from giving the delicate letter over. But no. He had to step on his dreams and ego. Then it had only escalated. He could hardly remember the words exchanged, only the cold wind as he threw a punch and completely missed. He hit the floor soon after and that was when it happened. That immense pain that yet had seized. Defeat. Another wave washed over him as he heard the doors close and they began to roll him away to what he assumed was the hospital. 'Sorry mom….’ he thought as tears continued to roll down his cheeks, the heavy urge to sleep washing over him again.

SKULL

Ryuji was already going into shock, his body seemingly shutting down without his knowledge. All he could remember was the sour taste of bile that was left in his mouth as he saw the bright medical lights above him, blinding him further. Nothing; that was what he wanted to become and feel. Nothing. His gift was finally granted and he was coming in and out of consciousness. He could not even make out the voices around him as he groaned in pain, feeling the arms holding him down and the sheer pain that was emitted from his leg. It took no time and he was nothing but a motionless, thoughtless, and undoubtedly useless boy on the way to the ER.

SKULL

The muscles in his jaw tensed as he slowly came to and fro in the recovery room. He could still feel the oxygen mask over his mouth and he was quickly reminded that the pain was still there. In his arm an assortment of IVs were connected to tube after tube, dripping who knew drugs into his system. Whatever they were, he was not about to complain if they were keeping this pain at bay. He did not dare even think what he’d be feeling if there was no aid in dulling it. He could not move, his leg felt like it was no longer even attached to his body and if it were not for seeing it physically there in front of him, he would assumed he had lost it. But what damage had been done? What horrors would he soon face beneath the cloth of the blanket that had been so poorly draped over him? Forget it. He’d worry about that later. After a few minutes of looking around slowly and trying his best to breathe; something that was becoming difficult to him; someone was by his side dressed all in white and adjusting some of the dials on the many machines beside his bed.

He watched but could not speak; he could make no noise. Or so he thought… The moment the assumed nurse left the room he could feel his lips tremble against the cold, overly clean air that he was forced to breathe in. Next, he felt the tears sliding down his cheeks and pool in the nape of his neck and soil the pillow beneath him as he broke down, everything that happened slowly catching up to him. Useless… He gifted his hands and clenched his eyes closed, trying not to let the sobs escalate, but it was no use. He was wreck and he knew it. He did his best to turn his face away from the door and just stare at the wall; his only comfort as he broke down and mourn just how pathetic he was.

SKULL

A couple of days passed and he was only just coming out of critical condition. He had finally made touch with some of the doctors who were filling him on in what had happened and he had not been pleased. He had wretched everything out of his stomach as he came to the realization that he had destroyed his very life in the split second he threw that punch at the coach. Finally. He was out of intensive care. And for an broken leg, he could hardly imagine why he had been under such a careful watch. That was until the cruel news had been laid out before him. He had suffered a compound fracture where the tibia had been protruding from his leg, splintering into the muscle around it. It had completely snapped. The doctors had been nice and not used the word shattered, but that was the harsh reality. According to their diagnosis, they were explaining that he had been thrashing around that he went into shock and passed out on the way to the hospital. Apparently a piece of bone marrow had entered his blood stream and clogged one of his veins which only threw him cardiac arrest only a few hours after. So, all the while of trying to keep his leg steady, they had to worry about that problem reaching his heart.

Once again, he felt it heard to breathe. He could not even look the doctor in the eyes as he explained it all to him. His tears had already started up again and he simply nodded every few minutes and took in a deep breath of that too cold oxygen. Thankfully he had at least gotten use to that and even relied on it when he was told he could start trying to breathe without it. He had gone on the learn that his femur had been badly bruised but there was no crucial damage; not like it fucking mattered… But at least the artery had been spared. Last thing he needed was more complications. But then the worst news came. He had suffered critical damage to the fibular nerve which would leave him with constant numbness, pain, and the possible chance of no functionality in that leg. This, he learned there was no coming back from. And then those words struck him. He’d never run again. “Then why live…” He murmured and turned away as the doctor had left him for the morning. Yup. Useless… He closed his eyes and placed the oxygen mask back over his mouth and contemplated why even bother? Leave it off and maybe they would not make it in time if he so happen to choke to death.

The only good news? Starting the next day, he could have visitors. He would be moved to a more local recovery room and such But who the fuck would even come see him? He wanted to see his mother; and although he had heard she had stopped by on many occasions, he was either comatose, asleep, or just not functioning enough to comprehend anything. Had she seen him at his worst? He’d of hoped not. Last thing he needed was to give her an image that would haunt her forever. Clothing his eyes, he began to once again drift off. He knew he had a couple hours until someone would come in and re do his bandages and give him an antibiotics for the infection he had gotten from the open wounds created. He hated these times the most. He had always refused to look at his own leg, in denial of the damage that could not be undone. He refused to accept it…


End file.
